Part Twelve: Let's Break Erik Out Of The Pentagon

1973. Washington, DC. The Pentagon.

Svet's POV.

(a/n: no sunglasses, no phone, no record player, no 'girls' thing and no 'fab' thing)

We had to stop a clothing store in DC to get Charles, Hank and myself some new clothes. Charles looked like a slob, Hank and I were too 'out of fashion' according to the people who worked there. I wore a pink, fluffy fur coat (god save me), a white tank top, browny-orange jeans and brown platform shoes.

"Built in 1943, the Pentagon is the world's largest office building... housing more than 25, 000 military employees... stretched out over six million square feet." the tour guide explained.

We had to look like we were apart of the crowd instead of a bunch of adults and two adolescents trying to break the man who supposedly 'killed' JFK out of the Pentagon. Charles, Logan and myself walked downstairs, leaving the tour crowd behind, and I entrusted Hank to look after Lorna.

On the final stairs, we threw the tour pamphlets in the trash. We continued to walk through the maze of corridors that was the Pentagon. We walked in to the kitchen with the ceiling sprinklers going off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is a Code Red situation. We are evacuating the entire floor... so that my associates and I... can, uh, secure the prison." Charles announced, as the chefs abandoned the kitchen as we walked towards the security guards.

"Who are you?" one asked.

"We're special operations, CB... FB-CID. Perhaps you didn't hear me when I first spoke... but it is imperative that you understand... we're in a complete lock down situation. We have to get you to the third floor..." Charles began.

Logan had enough and took down the two guards with a frying pan. Bloody hell.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you finished?" Logan snapped, with some sarcasm in his voice.

Charles didn't reply, instead bent down, and stole one of the knocked out security guard's key and put it in the lock.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not very good with violence..." Charles apologized, turning the key in the lock.

With all the water that was pouring down on us, my hair, clothes and shoes were soaking wet. The elevator door opened, and the first thing I was was a security guard taped to the wall of the elevator with duct tape. Peter. God damn it.

Charles' eyes landed on Erik. Needless to say, they were both shocked. Erik's eyes landed on me and his expression softened.

"Charles?" Erik questioned, as Charles let out a growl of anger and punched Erik in the face, causing Erik to fall over and Charles to stumble forward.

Erik held his hand to his mouth, on the floor. "Good to see you too, old friend. And walking".

"No thanks to you" Charles snapped.

"You're the last person in the world I expected to see today. Except Svetka" Erik acknowledged.

"Believe me... I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to. If we get you out of here, we do it my way. No killing." Charles growled.

"No helmet" Erik said, gesturing to his head. "I couldn't disobey you even if I wanted".

"I'm never getting inside of that head again. I need your word, Erik." Charles hissed, as I walked over to Peter, who looked confused, as Erik nodded his head.

Guards burst into the room, holding guns, as Erik pulled me close, holding me protectively, kissing the top of my head softly.

"Nobody move!" a guard yelled, as about five of them came into the room.

"Charles." Erik said, as we all stepped out of the elevator, with Erik still holding me close.

"Don't move. Hands up, or we will shoot!" a guard threatened, their guns all aimed on us.

"Freeze them, Charles" Erik said.

"I can't" Charles said, for all the right reasons. He didn't have his powers so we all, except Erik and Peter, knew that Charles couldn't do it.

"Hands up!" another guard ordered.

Erik suddenly used his abilities to manipulate all the metal objects in the kitchen, as I yelled a "No!", placing a hand on his chest, as the guards fired their guns, with Logan's claws coming out.

Suddenly, the bullets flew out of proportion from their track and hit the elevator doors with the guards fallen to the floor. We all stared at Peter in wonder, as he stood at the opposite end of the kitchen to us, with all the metal objects fallen to the floor.

Peter stood there, with a security guard's hat on, wearing a pair of goggles and some headphones in addition to his outfit. Slipping his headphones out, Charles walked over the mess he'd caused, as Erik looked at Logan in confusion, then down to his claws.

We all walked out of the kitchen, myself giving my 17 year old son a hug. How is it possible that Peter is my son, you ask? Well, when I was 18, I was a trainee CIA agent, working with my mentor, Moira MacTaggert, who was few years older than me. Moira took me on a mission to Geneva, Switzerland, one time back in 1955 and I met a man at the bar. Erik Lehnsherr. He didn't recognize me because I was a lot younger then. In 1956, at the age of 19, I gave birth to our son Pietro, or Peter.

The downside of being a young adult that was fresh out of high school and the CIA training academy is that I couldn't afford to raise Peter. So I gave him to my friend, Judie Maximoff, who adopted him and raised him. I visited a lot, but I wanna take Peter with me and Lorna, maybe Erik to live with each other as a family. Peter had a twin sister, Wanda, but she was unfortunately stillborn, due to the umbilical cord being wrapped around her neck.